Tell me something that I'll believe
by AmyNY
Summary: Three years after Morgana's disappearance Albion has united and magic has returned. But she's still missing and Merlin can't let it rest. AU post s4


**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

**Summary:** Three years after Morgana's disappearance Albion has united and magic has returned. But she's still missing and Merlin can't let it rest. AU post s4

**Characters:** Merlin, Morgana, Arthur

**A/N:** This takes place a few years after series 4 and goes AU after that. If there are any grammar mistakes please feel free to point them out cause I didn't have time or the strength to re-read this again after my hundredth edit.

-oo-

_Such a shame. All that power, all that beauty, abandoned, forgotten in a living grave._

_(Sarrum of Amata)_

-MM-

Had he known this is how they would end up...but he hasn't. That was the point. How could he? Just a young boy then with a destiny much older men would cave under. It was fulfilled now. Albion was united. Arthur was the king of Camelot with Gwen by his side, as not only his wife but also a trustworthy advisor, with Merlin appointed as a court sorcerer, a position invented by Arthur specifically for him as an apology for the way he treated Merlin after he found out he had magic (not that Merlin blamed him for any of that).

Yes, all was well in the land, Camelot flag raised high above the city walls. Everything has happened exactly as the Great dragon predicted; which most of the time made Merlin happier than he ever thought he'd be during those dark days of Camelot or his years spent in Eldor as a child.

Only one thing made the smile disappear from his face, one more thing that Kilgharrah told him a long time ago has indeed come to pass. Morgana has become the darkness to his light, the one person he failed to save time and time again. Even worse, in a way he was the one who pushed her towards that darkness, serving as the catalyst of her hatred of everything relating to Camelot.

Three long years have passed since he last saw her disappear in the cloud of smoke and dust a few seconds after he send her to the ground using magic in order to save Gwen, and Merlin feared the worst, though Arthur denied the mere possibility of such an outcome. By the way he carried himself not many would think so but he still very much cared about his half-sister and Merlin understood. He felt the same way. Because of that he has made it his mission as of late to find her or at least find out what happened to her once and for all.

Back then he was too consumed with anger because of everything Morgana did to Gaius and Gwaine and was just glad she was gone, far away from the castle, from his friends. He never questioned what has become of her, he was sure she was alright – she had a talent for getting out of the impossible situations. No doubt she's show her face in Camelot again soon - eyes ablaze, smirk firmly in place.

Still time passed, days, months, years with no sign of her and his anger melted away bit by bit and soon the pity turned into genuine worry. Merlin felt he was being ungrateful, asking questions when he should enjoy the life he was able to live now but he just had to know. Without that he felt his heart would get no rest, not knowing would eat at him little by little even if there wasn't much he could do anymore. Morgana has put them all through so much, no one blamed him for her own failures and poor choices but Merlin knew that wasn't exactly the truth and for that reason alone he couldn't just let it go.

Every time there was a feast at the castle and he would be returning to his room after a night spent in good company, with friends, that left him grinning like a complete fool he would pass the staircase that used to lead to her quarters and would be reminded that there was something missing.

Someone. A friend. Now only a ghost of something that was, still roaming these halls, calling onto him, asking him _why_. _I had no other choice_, he would whisper sometimes but the only answer he got was his own voice echoing in the empty space.

With time everyone else started noticing that Merlin was slowly turning into a ghost too, a shadow of his former self. He still laughed, went along with whatever task they faced, riding into battle with Arthur, always by his side, where he belonged, but there were moments when they would sit at the round table with the knights and he would get that distant look in his eyes, as if he was hundred miles away and Gwaine would call out his name twice before he'd actually turn and join in on the conversation with an apologetic smile.

Gwen worried and by extent Arthur had no choice but to do the same, especially after noticing how much skinnier Merlin has gotten lately (as if he wasn't too thin already). Something was clearly worrying him and yet he refused to speak of it.

And then one afternoon Arthur's new servant, Edward came into the throne room announcing that there was a man here to see the king about an urgent matter. At that Arthur simply nodded and ordered to his servant to let the man in.

A short, bearded man with warm brown eyes walked in, his face covered in dirt and various bruises. Even in his battered state he was quick to bow as he approached the king as Arthur gestured for him to stand up.

"What is it you wished to see me about?"

"Sire, my name is Elmer. I live near the border of the Sarrum's kingdom of Amata, Two days ago I was captured by Sarrum's men but by pure luck I've managed to escape. The reason I tell you all this sire is because during my captivity I have managed to overhear something very troubling from the guards, you know how they tend to gossip during those late night hours," he stopped as the King gestured for him to hurry it up. "Yes, so one of them was bragging how his master has managed to capture Morgana Pendragon and that he was holding her in a dungeon there."

Arthur kept his composure but Merlin could tell he was as shocked by this as he was. Still he looked at the man with scrutiny and asked, "Are you certain that was what they said?"

"Yes sire."

Before the man had a chance to add anything more Arthur summoned Leon and in less than an hour they had a plan formed.

"We ride at dawn."

-MM-

In three days it took them to reach the castle they were faced with some of the most miserable conditions Arthur has ever seen. The wind was relentless as the rain kept pouring down, which made for a very frustrating journey down a very muddy and slippery terrain.

Their plan was fairly simple, go in and fight - with Merlin at their side Arthur knew they stood a fair chance. And they had the element of surprise working in their favor.

Still Arthur worried. Merlin kept going on very little sleep and even less food - not even Arthur's incessant threats could make him get some rest or eat more than two bites of his meal. Much like his sister, once Merlin set his mind onto something there was no steering him away, or changing his mind.

On the afternoon of that third day the the sky finally cleared up just as they reached the castle and after a brief moment of silence - the calm before the storm, they charged in, after their King with swords raised high.

It took them very little time to take over the small castle; they managed to take down most of the guards before they were even aware of what was happening. The few that did fight back were no match for the knights of Camelot. Arthur ran into Sarrum's quarters to find Merlin standing before him with his hand raised, demanding to know where Morgana was. Only fifteen minutes ago the warlock was shaking in his wet clothes outside and now here he was threatening a ruthless killer and a king no less. With dark eyes and clenched jaw he made for a threatening sight and even Sarrum looked frightened by the young man before him.

Arthur's first reaction was to rush to his side and stop him from making a mistake but he knew standing in a way of the greatest warlock that ever lived was not the smartest move he could make right now so he simply said, "Merlin."

"What?" Merlin asked, raising his voice. Everyone's nerves were getting a little thin and even the smallest things put them on edge and he was no exception.

"There is no need for that. I found her."

Ten minutes later they were standing over an actual oubliette, placed intentionally further away from the others – a living grave.

"I can't open it. If you could-"

He didn't get to finish his thought as the piercing sound of something cracking interrupted him and Merlin quickly leaned in to remove the giant stone covering the entrance to the dungeon. With Arthur's help Merlin cast it aside before looking down.

The day they waited for almost three years was finally here and when he looked at the dark pit, blinking a few times for his eyes to adjust he wished it hasn't. Merlin has thought of finding her before, imagined the way she'd react, all fiery eyes and angry words – the way she always acted when someone's wronged her. He was prepared for that, for her to yell, call him a traitor, a coward, throw him into a wall with her magic. Yes, he was prepared for anything. Anything but this.

This grotesque, distorted image of a woman he once knew.

"Morgana," he said, immediately recognizing that face, even if it was hidden behind a mop of dark hair. It was a face of the woman who has lived in the darkness for two years, plagued by her dreams, consumed from the inside by magic that yearned to be used, condemned to watch the only creature that has shown her compassion grow up disfigured in the tiny space beside her.

He knew with absolute certainty that the woman lying there was Morgana even in she was clad in some ratty clothes that was a far cry from the dramatic pieces she used to be so very fond of. The dragon that was cramped beside her stirred and looked up at Merlin with the saddest eyes he has ever seen.

Aithusa.

For what seemed like hours but was in fact only seconds, Merlin just stood there, staring at Morgana in shock before he managed to tear his eyes away and help her and the little dragon out with magic as otherwise it would take far too long.

Soon they were both standing next to Merlin and Arthur, looking at them with clear distrust. Merlin took a small step back, remembering that Morgana was in fact a very powerful witch but then she stumbled and he reacted instinctively, reaching for her hand to help her stand. She tried to bait him away but was obviously too weak so he stepped closer grasping her elbow (Somehow he was always reaching for her and she was always, _always_ pushing him away.) Aithusa relaxed a little too when she saw he was not here to harm them.

Merlin led her outside, into the light as she leant on him heavily, stumbling a few times. When they walked out of the castle she squinted shielding her eyes from the light and he stopped walking, letting her adjust to her surroundings. Eventually she lowered her hand and let her eyes wonder, taking it all in before they settled on his face.

"Merlin," Morgana said, peering at him curiously, her hand tracing his cheek delicately as he just stared at her. "This can't be real," she all but whispered, her voice raspy and thin, as if she hasn't used it in a long time. And then she collapsed into his arms.

Nothing but the crackling of the wood under Arthur's feet could be heard in the background, as all eyes focused on the young warlock and the woman lying unconscious in his arms. Merlin's eyes were too busy inspecting her dirt covered face in search of any possible injuries, completely ignorant of all the attention he was getting.

Naturally Arthur sprung to action first hurrying to his side, taking his sister from him and Merlin took a relieved breath, feeling his knees buckle under him as he sank to the ground.

-MM-

When they took camp for the night Morgana was still unconscious as Arthur stood watch while Merlin took Aithusa to Kilgharrah, in hopes he could help her. The little dragon he once knew was all but gone, replaced with the broken figure that was too scared to even communicate with him. All he could do was wrap her wounds and hope Kilgharrah would be able to reach her.

He did the same for Morgana, cleaning up the particularly bad gash she had on her forehead and the few cuts. The thing that alarmed him the most were here wrists – they were bruised and covered in dried blood, skin there red and raw and the image of her in those iron shackles kept hunting him. There were many wrongs he has caused her yet this seemed like the worst punishment of all for the woman with such untamed spirit as Morgana's. He had no medical supplies with him and no clean gauze so he took of his red neckerchief, split it in two and wrapped it around her wrists.

In the morning they resumed their trip to Camelot. Morgana rode together with Arthur wrapped in a couple of blankets as fever claimed her exhausted body and she only woke once during their whole ride back home to drink some water but she didn't seem to be aware of much of her surroundings in her delirious state.

Merlin watched her carefully, not because he cared of course but because he worried for Arthur's safety. But even to him it was soon clear that no harm would come to either of them as she only had just enough strength to take a few sips of fresh water before her eyes began to close again, hands holding on to Arthur as if he was her last connection to reality.

It took great effort to not just reach out and reassure her she would be alright. It would be a lie anyway. Looking at the broken shell of a person he used to know he honestly wondered if anything would be alright again.

When they returned to the castle, Morgana was placed into her own room, her own bed at Arthur's insistence with two guards placed by the door (he may have a soft spot for her but he was no fool). If it was anyone else they would've been thrown to the dungeons, no questions asked.

-MM-

That same night Merlin woke up with a gasp, squeezing his eyes shut at a splitting headache that threatened to make him ill. After a few deep breaths he calmed enough to concentrate on figuring out the source of this. It was magic.

A very strong, powerful magic, from somewhere in the castle.

Morgana.

Before he could fully wake up he was out of his room, running up the stairs, giving away the impression of someone who was eager to get to his destination yet as he reached the top stair and saw her door across the wide hallway and two guards standing there uncertain, he slowed down, his feet feeling heavy. He motioned for them to step away but didn't come in immediately, letting his hand rest on her doorknob.

There was a scream coming from the inside and Merlin had no time for hesitation. With a quick pull he opened the heavy door and was by her side in seconds, his old boots echoing on the cold stone.

Before he got a chance to come any closer Morgana screamed and sat up, blasting the window open, the sound of glass shattering startling them both. Merlin reached for her without thinking, sitting down on the bed next to her. She grabbed a handful of his undershirt with her small fingers, unconsciously pulling him closer, as her bewildered eyes found his blue ones and she finally relaxed a little.

"Merlin," she whispered, her voice filled with relief and softness she rarely showed anymore.

Merlin's first thought was to pull away, put some distance between them but soon he realized that she was only half awake, barely aware of her actions so he just let her be.

His hand rested on her feverish cheek and he whispered "Gefultuma híe þæt heo onslæpe," before laying her head down on the pillow slowly. The frown lines disappeared from her pale face, the moonlight that cascaded through the window of her room making her look almost angelic. _What happened to you Morgana, _he wondered silently.

As he stood up his fingers brushed against her hand and he looked at his own neckerchief wrapped around her slender wrists that were healing already. In the privacy of the late night, he allowed himself a moment of stillness, waiting for his own hands to steady.

Yes, Morgana has put them all through so much. But maybe she has suffered too.

-MM-

Being a Court Sorcerer and a close advisor of the king of Camelot has given Merlin a lot more freedom while also forcing him to grow up a lot. These days he was much less accident prone, more serious, as was the position he occupied. It was more than apparent that Merlin felt a lot more comfortable in his own skin now when the truth about him was out in the open then he ever did as a servant hiding his secret.

Arthur was aware of all that and so it surprised him to find his friend wearing out the hardwood floors of his chambers while he sat and worked on some court documents. A meeting with the Knights of the Round Table has just ended and Arthur has called him here to talk about a rather delicate matter.

"This has got to stop Merlin," Arthur finally spoke up, feeling sorry not just for his friend but also his freshly polished floors.

"What?" Merlin asked, genuinely confused as he turned to face him.

"This. Pacing. Pouting."

"I don't pout!" he protested.

Arthur sighed. He really didn't want to have this conversation but Merlin left him no choice. In the last couple of days Arthur was humbled by his friend's actions, despite how he felt about Morgana he still managed to be there with Gaius every step of the way, helping with whatever was necessary. Arthur tried but was of little assistance. There was only one person who could help when magic was in question.

"Why won't you go and see her?" Arthur asked finally.

"I didn't know it was my duty to-"

"It's not about that Merlin and you know it as well as I do," the King said.

"I've already been to see her on the very first day. And as far as I know she still isn't well enough to receive visits," he said, accidentally revealing that he was curious enough about her condition that he asked someone about it (probably Gaius) but wasn't ready to see for himself.

Arthur took a calming breath "Fine, you don't have to go but please for the love of all that's holly, stop ruining my floor!" he said in a tone which quite clearly suggested that whatever got him so upset had little to do with the furnishing.

Merlin stopped, looking down at his feet as if he only now became aware of his own actions "Who do you imagine did this to Mor-"

"There's only one person who can give you the answer to that," Arthur said looking up at his friend.

-MM-

It took almost two whole days for her fever to break. On that second night she woke in a sweat soaked nightgown in a soft bed and the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was him. He looked tired, it was evident he hasn't gotten much sleep but his eyes were cold and fully alert of her every move.

"I've sealed the windows and the doors with magic so don't bother trying to escape," he informed her, trying to give away the impression of an unwavering, resolute individual.

His eyes told a different story.

With tall boots, in a formal court attire and a firm posture he reminded her of Arthur and the way he looked when he gave one of his speeches to the Knights of the Round Table – with that serious expression and unreadable eyes, no place for emotions of any kind. The years have changed him a lot it seemed and at that moment she saw no traces of old Merlin which truly scared her, so if that was his goal he has achieved it completely.

She has heard a few years back about Merlin having magic but she never confirmed if the rumors were indeed true. Now she knew.

Merlin stood up and went for the door without sparing her another glance.

"Please, just- what happened with Aithusa, is she-"

"She's gonna be alright," he said briefly.

"How do you know-"

"I am the last dragonlord," he said briefly with his back turned to her and then he was gone.

-MM-

He didn't come back for the whole week.

Gaius came to check on her once and she asked about him but the physician was very vague in his answers. He did let it slip that it was Merlin who helped with her nightmares on that first night she spent back at Camelot. They have gotten so bad lately she was too afraid to go to sleep, to close her eyes and now, for the last few nights she has slept through the night without waking once. She told Gaius to thank Merlin for that because it has meant a lot, more than he would ever know.

She did also find out that he was the main Court Sorcerer now and that probably took up a lot of his time. Still she wondered why he avoided her. Didn't he want an explanation? Didn't he want to make her pay for what she did?

Arthur came to visit twice making it clear immediately that he did not care for any of her explanations, what was done could not be remedied, but Merlin – he didn't even bother enough to tell her that. He didn't care enough to tell her anything. Hate would be better than this condemning silence.

When she found out about his magic, she hated him, for not telling her. Back then it would have meant a lot to know she was not alone.

Kind of like now.

-MM-

Despite everything, the restlessness returned when she woke up every morning, the fear that even without truly intending to she would still destroy everything around her. Morgana had no more control over her magic, not for some time now. It has all became too much, a curse instead of a blessing.

Maybe you should fear those who possess magic after all.

In that cold, dark prison that barely had enough room for her and Aithusa she was kept for God knows how long, with no hope of escape. She has screamed until her voice became raw, tried every single spell she ever learned, over and over again. But no matter what spell she said the shackles stayed in place, the hatch stayed closed, walls impenetrable. Morgana felt like she couldn't breathe, slowly going insane in the silence, watching that poor little dragon grow up in the darkness, looking as broken as she felt.

With no one to help her she was left to her own devices, sinking deeper and deeper into the darkness, letting the magic consume everything she was, destroying everything good in her, bit by bit - including her own sanity.

On some days she even thought that maybe it was better that way. There, in that dungeon, she couldn't hurt anyone, accidentally or otherwise. Here it was a whole different story. Morgana let out a breath, trying to even out her breathing as a candle beside her bed lit up. She whispered, "Færblæd."

There was no rest for her to be found, no escape from this hell.

And then Merlin walked in. She didn't need to look up to know it was him – she felt it. The burning she felt constantly in her fingers stilled, as if his presence served as the equilibrium she needed and she could breathe freely. It was like his magic balanced out her own, as Kilgharrah said, the light to her darkness, the good to her evil.

"Gaius told me what you did. I wanted to thank you," she said.

"There is no need."

"Of course there is. You don't know how much-"

"I'm sure you would've done the same if it was me," he said and she shook her head.

"No I wouldn't. Not since-"

"I'm sure even you couldn't be that cruel."

She wasn't so sure but judging by the way he said it he obviously was. Not much surprise there, Merlin always tried to see the best in people even when they constantly tried to prove him otherwise.

He chose to stand by the post of her bed, even as she offered him a seat – clearly he has learned a thing or two since the old days.

"Are the nightmares still troubling you?"

"Not since you-" she stopped herself. "But it wasn't just that. I've always thought that when it came to magic I was in control. How wrong I have been," she said with a bitter laugh, "Back then there were broken vases and windows, burnt rooms and later- well it just got a whole lot worse. I lost everything. When I was captured in the forest by Sarrum magic was all I could turn to, all I had. For three years-" she sighed, looking down at her bruised wrists, "Anger…hate and magic are a dangerous combination Merlin."

He said nothing, not even I told you so, that was more than overdue. Merlin just stood and listened, as hard as it was. Everything she's said made sense because he's been there to witness it, a casualty of that same hate, one of many.

In a way, he understood - there were times when he was too weary and too tired of fighting, of watching his friends die, watching Arthur fall by the sword of others when he let the anger take over him, burning everything that was in his path. But he had those same friends there to ground him when it was needed, to help him take a step back, Gaius and Arthur in particular. He would forever be grateful for that.

The power he possessed – it scared him sometimes and if he hasn't spent years learning to live with it with the help of his mother and then later Gaius he could have just as easily ended up in her place.

Morgana, on the other hand, had no one. At the time the only person who could've helped her ended up pushing her further away, right into the arms of a ruthless man such as Sarrum and he still couldn't forget that. The cruel Amata king may have been the one to blame for the state she was in now but he was once in a very similar position, and then he was the reason she lay broken in his arms.

"I feel like I should apologize too. For poisoning you."

She stared at him in disbelief. He felt that he needed to apologies for that (for the second time), even if he had no other choice at the time while she has done far worse things to him and to people he cared for. But that was the kind of person Merlin was.

"There is no need. And I mean it this time," she said, echoing his words from earlier. "You did what you had to do. I saw it in your eyes then, how hard it was for you but I didn't want to admit it, not to you, least of all myself. How else would I convince myself you were an enemy worth of nothing but contempt?" she asked, a ghost of a smirk gracing her lips.

She didn't remember half of her days spent in the dungeon but she still recalled his tear filled eyes as he took her in his arms, the crushing sadness hiding there. When you want something as badly as she wanted the crown of Camelot you don't mind forgetting or inventing a few things to fit in with whatever lies you needed to tell yourself in order for the plan to work.

"Maybe you should agree with Arthur's suggestion and toss me into the dungeons."

"He wouldn't do that."

"Surely you see that it's not very wise to keep a powerful witch in the castle without at least one iron clad door placed between me and the rest of the Camelot."

"I'm not afraid of you," Merlin said calmly.

"You should be."

It wasn't meant to be a threat. She was just informing him how things stood. Maybe he wasn't afraid but Morgana certainly was - a simple though of staying alone in this room scared her beyond reason. Merlin could see how worried she was, even as she tried to hide the trembling fingers under the crisp white bed covers, averting her eyes from his.

"I've burned down kingdoms before. And not always willingly, despite what you may choose to believe. Sometimes I would just fall asleep and when I'd wake up there would be nothing left but the ashes. So – what makes you think this time will be any different?"

"Camelot has something they didn't," he said and she could've sworn there was a hint of the familiar mischievous spark in those blue eyes.

"And what is that?"

"Emrys."

"And where might that mysterious old warlock be?"

"Right here," he said with such certainty that she wanted to believe him but she found it a little hard to do so when he was standing there with that messy dark hair, a wicked grin and the red jacket hanging of his scrawny shoulders.

"What?" she asked in disbelief, "How-"

"If something happens, if you find it that you are unable to control your magic, I will be here to stop you," he said and she swallowed hard, "So please let me help you, show you how. Do what I failed to do before," he added and since she didn't respond, turned to leave taking her silence as an answer.

"Don't leave, please. It's quieter that way," Morgana said softly, "when you're here."

And he did, pulling a chair to sit on close to her bed and somehow she was less afraid. (of the place she once called home, ghosts always following her, the feeling that she's back in that dungeon every time she closes her eyes, magic waiting to burst out and burn, burn, burn) There was some irony there, she knew, the great Emrys being her savior instead of her doom.

Even now he knew her better than anyone, all her shadows, secrets and schemes, he saw through all of it before Arthur and Uther ever did and they were the ones she grew up with. She could tell, as he looked at her, that all of it was still there, every lie she ever told him, every wrong she's caused him – he remembered but didn't look away. The kindness in his eyes was always present, though hardened with years.

Merlin didn't tell her it would be easy, didn't talk about fairy tales with happy endings – he knew there weren't any. There was only a man willing to forgive (rather than condemn) far more than she ever could for the sake of the friendship he once valued, and a woman willing to believe him (believe that she was worth saving after all).

So she let her eyes close, for the first time feeling a little better, more grounded in the real world and not the one filled with nightmares.


End file.
